


Work to Do

by CharlieBravoWhiskey



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, New Orleans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 14:20:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieBravoWhiskey/pseuds/CharlieBravoWhiskey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mystique contemplates her next mark and remembers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work to Do

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://charliebravowhiskey.tumblr.com/post/14495583494/the-picture-is-not-mine-the-words-are-my). Nothing is mine. The picture isn't mine.

My view from the hotel room is of a church with park benches in front - the kind that are favored here in New Orleans. This one is white washed with lovely rose windows which were bathed in a soft glow from inside the building. I shift a little on my feet and kill the lights. Watching the scene from my room, I shift from leg to leg, trying to keep my nervous energy in check.

The morning, which really is debatable, is foggy and thick. The air is stifling, humid and thick. Very, very thick. If I ignored the accents, I could almost convince myself that I was back in Oxford and not in New Orleans. But I am much too wary to do that and I frown. Movement catches my eye and I zoom in on it. There are a few stragglers out stumbling back from where ever and whatever they have been up to in the night. They are holding each other up. I can almost hear them laughing and drunk; stinking of whiskey, gin, vodka and other hard alcohol.

I wrinkle my nose and gently shake myself out of my daydream.

I am here on a mission. Not to sight see and stroll in the city. It’s a shame, really. A girl could get into a lot of trouble here. I glance down again and see my mark. He’s a handsome man. No, I take that back. He seems to be liquid sex, walking in such a way that no one misses what exactly he is willing to give. He has a walking stick with him.

No, that’s wrong. That stick is more than just a walking stick. He knows how to handle himself, if my reports are to be trusted.

That’s fine.

I know how to handle myself as well.

I take another glance in his direction and smile. He has his arms around two women. Two very handsy women. He smiles again whispering something into the ear of the red head while the other laughs. His eyes flash red and now I know he’s my mark.

I walk into the bathroom, trying to decide which disguise to use tonight. I shift through several possibilities before settling on the one I left Oxford in. I feel a sharp pang of regret but push the thought out of my head.

This is no time for regrets. I have a job to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews?


End file.
